


Bad Habbits

by BlackJade



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Percy invents Russian Roulette, Scanlan is worrying me and this is a vent fic, but not really??, spoilers for episode 81
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:37:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9387476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackJade/pseuds/BlackJade
Summary: "Scanlan... Do you know what you're getting into?"Instantly, Scanlan tensed, and walls were built around him. He took a minute step back, distancing himself from the topic at hand. "I'm a big boy, Percival," he said, almost on impulse, words dripping with sarcasm, "I can take care of myself."In which Percy and Scanlan have a heart to heart on a balcony in Whitestone.





	

 Percy finds him on a balcony. Not that Whitestone castle had only one balcony, but this one has importance. That's why he was there. Here is where Scanlan jumped off with a sword, aimed at a Rakshasa, and stuck the landing in the bravest, stupidest move Percy had ever seen the little gnome perform.

And there Scanlan was, leaning against the rail as well as he could at his height, standing on the stone bench tucked to the side for a little boost. Percy strode beside him, crossing his arms on the rail and leaning his chin on them, mimicking the pose of his small friend.

"Any particular reason you're standing out here alone in the dark?" Percy asked, glancing up at the sky. It was a relatively clear night, especially for Whitestone. A sliver of a moon shone above them.

"Can't sleep," he replied lazily, feigning casualty. He could have fooled Percy into believing his words if he'd wanted to. He didn't.

Percy sighed and straightened up enough to put his arm into his coat, digging in his pocket for something. Finding it, he placed a crumpled letter on the rail next to Scanlan, who glanced over curiously. They locked eyes, and for the first time he saw himself truly in Scanlan. Dark bags under his bloodshot eyes, a ghost of a polite smile that died before it reached his eyes. It gnaws on the back of Percy’s mind that he should have noticed quicker. It shouldn't have come to midnight conversations on balconies.

"What's this, a love letter?" Scanlan scoffed, giving a wink. "Don't worry, I won't tell Vex."

"Scanlan, you know what it is." Percy said, avoiding eye contact. Even initiating the conversation, it was so much harder than he thought it would be.

A flash of apprehension crossed Scanlan’s face, but he hid it with a smirk. "Yeah, yeah, one of those 'read-in-the-event-of-my-death' notes. What this all about?" His tone gave off flippancy, but there was worry in his eyes.

"You know it's more than just that," Percy started, licking his lips and looking anywhere but at the gnome. "It was more than just a worst-case-scenario note." Percy's tone got quieter. "Death for me wasn't supposed to be an accident."

Scanlan inhaled sharply. Tentatively, he licked his lips, chewing over his words. "I assumed you would talk to someone if you thought to put it to use in that way. You've gotten so much better about talking to people," A hint of pride streaked through his words, as well as woeful wistfulness.

Percy picked up on this. "And you seem to have picked up the trait of bottling things up," He glanced at Scanlan, who was fixated on him. Percy rubbed at his eyes, trying to think of how to phrase his next question. "Scanlan... Do you know what you're getting into?"

Instantly, Scanlan tensed, and walls were built around him. He took a minute step back, distancing himself from the topic at hand. "I'm a big boy, Percival," he said, almost on impulse, words dripping with sarcasm, "I can take care of myself."

Percy narrowed his eyes, but kept his tone cool and even, "It would be stupid of me to say I understand what you're going through. I don't. But I do understand what kind of mindset you need to be in to resort to the things you're resorting to." Percy was talking around the issue, he knew. Somehow, though, the words he wanted to say couldn't leave his lips. He looked directly at Scanlan, who hadn't looked away from him for a second this entire conversation, as though judging his reactions. "Just make sure that your poison of choice doesn't end up controlling you."

Scanlan outright laughed at that, though it was bitter and hollow. "Bit of the pot calling the kettle black, there, Percy."

Percy did not laugh. "I mean it. I know what it's like, to feel like you have no control, to just want to get away, even for just a moment..." Percy trailed off. They sat in silence for a second, and even out of the corner of his eye, Percy saw Scanlan glance at the door, as though planning an escape. Percy chimed in before he could act upon it.

"The pepperbox was a beautiful gun." He said, still staring towards the sky. Scanlan raised his brow at this sudden change of topic. Percy merely continued as though it was a natural transition. "Of course, it was the one I got the most... help… with. I could always see _him_ in it. When we were in Whitestone..." Percy tapered off, abandoning that sentence, trying to think of the best way to approach this. "You see, the pepperbox, and Animus for that matter, they present an interesting dilemma. They need to be able to hold multiple bullets while only firing one at a time. This is done with a pin that activates the gunpowder, sending the bullets flying, and a spring system that rotates the barrel with the pressure left over from the explosion, bringing the next chamber to the pin" the technical lecture seemed out of the blue, but Percy was getting to a point. Scanlan waited for him to finish.

"If there's nothing in the chamber, though, the pin just clicks, and I need to manually spin the barrel, so it’s designed so that the barrel can be spun freely,” Percy stopped, mind suddenly backtracking and wondering if this was an appropriate thing to say. However, once the floodgates were open, the words seemed to come out on their own. “So, you see, if you only have one bullet in the chamber and spin, the mathematical probability of the gun firing are one in six, though the bullet also weighs down the barrel, so chances of it not firing are actually a bit greater than that." Percy looked at Scanlan hesitantly, who was staring right at him, completely somber. Percy looked down, and continued his story. "When we were at Whitestone, you all asked me if the final barrel was for myself. I decided to test that theory. I loaded the chamber, spun the barrel…” He took a deep breath, “put it to my head, and fired," His voice broke, and he closed his eyes, tears threatening to leak out. He laughed this time, short and self-deprecating. "The first time is always such a rush, as I’m sure you know. And no matter how many times you go back, you find yourself never quite as satisfied as that first time." He shuttered a sigh and looked right at Scanlan, whose eyes were wide and his jaw tense. "Once I fired the gun three times in a row, just to feel alive."

"Percy, I-"

"So when I ask you to be careful with what bad habit you want to pick up next, know that _that_ experience, that level of complete disregard for consequences, that is what I'm using as a reference." Percy's tone got softer. "I know how dark of a place you have to be in to make those decisions. I don't want you there."

There was quiet for a long time. The two stared at each other, Scanlan wearing the expression of grief and guilt, Percy wearing exhaustion and worry. The wind blew softly as they stood there, night birds and wolves heard out in the distance as they were sat in stillness. Scanlan broke the silence first. "Okay. Okay, I get it. I’ll keep it under control. Try to stop.”

Percy nodded. Almost as an afterthought, Scanlan called out, “Also, Percy?”

"Yes?"

"That dark place. I don't want to see you there again, either."

Percy smiled, despite himself. Patting his friend on the shoulder, he turned towards the door, hands shoved in his coat pockets, "Come on. It’s late, and we have a busy day tomorrow.”

“We have a busy day every day.”

“True enough."

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published work, so please try to be nice when critiquing. Constructive criticism is always welcome, though!!


End file.
